I blame you for everything we cannot help, and everyone we must. for this night and the day that will tamely follow. would it be the last steered past life that I am hurling at or just this moment, this helenic statuette of rose and ebony, this brevity of motion like a womb, closed and unknowing. the quick brown decision jumped over the striped meaningless life. did it clear the fence or was there none. check blows with your arm and block dense pattern shawls with a churning loss of control, so much detail to hold it all in, confounding. was it simplicity or sheer autistic fervor. who made life this space without sight, who made love when war was still sound. there are a few murky secrets between you me and the sink hole between, it will clench one day and take us with, then your eyes will fill up and a feeling you thought never existed will surface. with a woman who keeps her depths secret and her shallows deeper, you cannot hope to gain quarter with hope, the choice my dear, was always mine